Nerve
by SusieSamurai
Summary: When you were designed to be perfect, it's that much more dangerous to make mistakes. Especially since Poppy Patel's mistakes tend to have devastating consequences. So when she's put in charge of Steve Rogers' unfreezing and rehabilitation into 21st Century society she starts to realize he was a lot easier to handle unconscious. Good thing she's got an awful lot of nerve.
1. Watching A 93 Year Old Defrost

_The Triskelion_

 _Washington D.C_

 _U.S.A_

 _09:00_

 _(Excerpt From A Conversation Between Agent Patel And Director Fury)_

 _Patel: I'm sorry sir, but you're requesting I do what?_

 _Fury: Take over the Lazarus Project - and it's not a request._

 _Patel: With all due respect, sir, you know my skill-set and it's better suited to tasks that aren't watching a ninety-three year-old man defrost. You need me out there - in the field._

 _Fury: That ninety-four year-old man is a national hero. And your skill-set is the exact reason why I picked you to head the project. This is your assignment. Romanoff and Barton will be just fine without you - and you can rejoin the team once you're finished._

 _Patel: We don't even know if he's going to wake up - he was frozen for sixty-seven years! It's a miracle he's even alive._

 _Fury: And you're going to keep it that way. And once he wakes up you'll be right there to transition him into the twenty-first century._

 _Patel:...I'm his babysitter…_

 _Fury: No, you're head of the Lazarus Project - report to Agent Hill for a full briefing on the position and what's expected of you. I'm looking forward to seeing great things Agent Patel._

 _Patel: Yes sir._

 _Fury: Why is it whenever she says "Yes Sir" it kind of sounds like "Fuck You"?_

 _Coulson: Practice I think, sir._

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Watching A 93 Year-Old Defrost**

"What the Hell are you doing Anderson? It's too soon!"

Poppy Patel's lightly accented words were punctuated by the sharp click of her heels against the polished floor as she strode into the med-bay. Doctor Anderson, her second on the Lazarus Project, looked up at her from the other side of Captain Steve Rogers body.

The American hero and icon lay naked in a medical pod save for a strategically placed sheet across his groin - Poppy had decided that the war hero and first of the superheroes deserved at least that much to preserve his dignity and 1940's sensibilities. Yes, she was stereotyping with that assumption, but in her defense she wasn't aware of many guys from 2012 who would be comfortable with their junk on display either.

"He started to react to outside stimuli," Anderson explained over the ever increasing beeping coming from the machines set up around the room. "I thought maybe it would be a good opportunity to allow him to awaken naturally."

"A good opportunity?" Poppy's head whipped around from where she was studying on of the monitors to stare at him incredulously. "We only narrowly saved his extremities from frost-bite two weeks ago! He's only just started maintaining a steady core temperature this last week!"

"His brain activity levels are off the charts," Anderson replied defensively.

"And his heart-rate's dangerously climbing," Poppy shot back as she approached Captain Rogers head, "Hit him with the sedative."

"Are you sure that's a -" Anderson argued before Poppy cut him off with a raised hand and the intensity in her dark eyes.

Watching Captain Rogers' eyes move rapidly beneath the bruised skin of his eyelids for a moment, Poppy looked back up to confirm that Anderson was following her orders. The older man, while obviously wanting to argue the matter further, was nonetheless slowly releasing the high-powered sedative into their patient's bloodstream. Keeping her eyes on Captain Rogers' face, Poppy listened as the beeping of the heart-rate monitor decreased until it was at a steady 50 beats per minute. Once she was reassured that he wasn't about to relapse into cardiac-arrest, Poppy let the full force of her gaze fall onto Anderson.

"I'm only going to say this once," Poppy's words were even as her eyes tracked the bobbing motion of Anderson swallowing nervously, "If you ever go against my direct orders again, you'll be gone faster than you can spell S.H.I.E.L.D. - understood?"

"...Understood."

Resentment settled into the lines of Doctor Anderson's face, the older man unappreciative of the situation Director Fury had placed him into. Answering to a precocious girl no older than 26 years old with an ego to rival Tony Stark's. He was an expert in his field with over 30 years experience under his belt and she was a mere child playing at things she had no right to meddle in.

"I still don't understand why Fury placed you in charge to begin with," Anderson muttered as Poppy began to walk away, "Rank amateur."

"This _rank amateur_ has an IQ of 186," Poppy replied lightly over her shoulder. "And it's a good thing Director Fury put me in charge, otherwise right now Captain Rogers would be dead and you'd be known as the man who murdered America's first superhero. Have a good night, Doctor Anderson."

With those words Poppy exited the med-bay, leaving Anderson to stare down at Captain Rogers as the realisation of what had almost occurred broke through his animosity towards the project leader.

Meanwhile Poppy grit her teeth and inwardly congratulated herself for not losing her temper and kicking the arrogant fool in the face. Heading towards the training rooms she wondered if her usual sparring partner was back from assignment - she could do with hitting something.

Walking through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D was always an experience. Poppy was notorious within the organisation and it showed in the reaction of her colleagues. Some would discretely side-eye her as she walked past, others openly staring, in some cases conversations would trail off only to pick back up once she was deemed out of earshot. The exact circumstances of her joining S.H.I.E.L.D. were classified, tied up with so much coding that only the highest level personnel had access to it. Unfortunately, the downside to her origin story not being public knowledge was that the rumors were rampant.

It shouldn't come as much of a surprise that people in the intelligence business _loved_ to gossip. Didn't make it any less irritating though.

"What happened? Someone take the last bagel in the caf again?"

Glancing next to her, Poppy saw Agent Natasha Romanoff had fallen into step with her, the red-headed woman's heeled boots making no sound at all against the polished floors. That being said, they would have gone unnoticed regardless with the way Poppy was slamming her own feet down. There was something satisfying about the echo of her footfalls reverberating down the corridor, she imagined Anderson's face to be on the bottom of her shoes.

"If only it were that trivial," Poppy replied, a hint of a smile pulling at her full lips.

Poppy didn't have many friends, in fact she could count them all on one hand, and the ones she actually trusted completely were less than that. On that list Nat would probably be one of the top names. While not trusting the older spy unconditionally - Poppy didn't think she would ever be able to do that - she had certainly shared more with her than anyone else. And in turn Nat had done the same. Both women had similar enough backgrounds before coming to S.H.I.E.L.D. that there had been a common-ground they had both lacked with anyone else they had encountered.

Both had been expected to be someone else's ideal of perfection.

"Well, let's get on the mat and you can tell me all about it," Nat's voice was playful as the two women approached the training rooms. "And then I'll catch you up on what you've missed out on with Clint and I."

"Alright," Poppy replied as she shucked her jacket and started unbuttoning her shirt as they entered the locker-rooms, "But I go first."

An hour later both women sat next to each other on the blue training mat, skin glistening with sweat as they sipped from water bottles. Tugging her hair-band out in a fit of frustration Poppy exclaimed, "So while you've been hanging out with _Tony Stark_ and Clint was at Ground Zero for human-demigod First Contact, _I've_ been watching a 93 year old defrost. That's bullshit."

"Don't forget the part where you put misogynists in their place on a daily basis," Nat pointed out with a mischievous grin. "But if it makes you feel better you've probably seen more of Captain Rogers than anyone else - from what I heard he kept his pants on even when the magic happened."

Eyes widening at what Nat was suggesting, Poppy swallowed down the laughter that bubbled up her throat and instead replied with a smirk, "I take it you mean when Erskine executed Project Rebirth and injected the good Captain with his super serum - not when he was injecting his _super serum_ into others?"

Both women stared at each other impassively before tipping their heads back and shaking with laughter. The only thing missing from the scene was Clint shaking his head at the two of them while failing at hiding the grin on his own face. Something that would continue to be missing for a while since he had been reassigned to the Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. facility after finishing up in New Mexico.

"P.E.G.A.S.U.S., Rebirth, Lazarus… S.H.I.E.L.D. sure likes their 'Projects' huh?" Nat commented thoughtfully once they'd sobered.

"Don't forget the acronyms," Poppy pointed out wryly, "sometimes I feel like I'm living a campy 60's spy movie."

"Don't mention that to Coulson - he'll never shut up about the 'good old days'," Nat warned as she rose to her feet in one fluid motion, extending the hand not holding her water bottle out to Poppy.

Grasping the offered hand Poppy allowed the older woman to pull her to her feet. "Oh I already know about his obsession with 'the classics'," Poppy replied as they left the mat and headed towards the locker-rooms. "I've already caught him _gazing_ at Captain Rogers more times than I'm comfortable with a grown man doing. If it weren't for the fact that he's Level 8 I'd be able to scare him off, instead he just stares through the glass like an orphan from a Dickens novel."

"Has he shown you his trading cards yet?" Nat raised a perfectly groomed brow over her shoulder as she stepped into one of the shower cubicles

"The trading cards were...mentioned."

The running water wasn't loud enough to cover up the sounds of Nat's amused chuckles.

* * *

It had been 3 months since Poppy and her team had relocated Captain Rogers to the New York S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters after getting him physically stable. Now it was just a waiting game for his mind to heal - if it did heal.

After much thought she had come to the conclusion that waking up in New York might help alleviate some of the stress of essentially coming out of a decades long coma. Common sights and sounds to play a somewhat small comfort on the man's possibly damaged psyche. While Midtown was located in a completely different island to Brooklyn, Poppy felt it would still be more familiar than D.C. - even though she couldn't stand New York City, too many bad memories.

Since her arrival she had practically lived in Captain Rogers' observation room, and not entirely due to her dedication to the project. The few times she had ventured outside of the building Poppy had donned a photostatic veil in case she was recognised. New York had been her father's domain after all and Midtown was too close to comfort to his labs in the upper West Side - labs that were still active according to S.H.I.E.L.D. even though her father had since relocated to Los Angeles 7 years ago.

With Nat having been reassigned to Russia a month ago and Clint still stuck at Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S., she'd had nothing but work to distract her. Well, work and a particularly attractive agent who was perfectly eager to help her with stress release.

"God… you're beautiful…" Agent Daniel's' voice was low and husky as he gazed down at Poppy, her hair falling across her face and curling over her shoulders and down her chest.

Tossing her head back to look at the ceiling as she continued to roll her hips, Poppy replied through gritted teeth, "Stop talking - you're ruining it."

In response Agent Daniels leaned down and buried his face against her chest, lips fever hot against her skin as his fingers dug into her thigh while his other hand tangled in her hair. Poppy tried to lose herself in the sensations once again, but Agent Daniels had successfully ruined it by bringing her back to reality. There was one condition to their arrangement and that was no talking.

It took a lot for Poppy to be able to shut her brain off, to quiet the constant whisperings that spun around like a twisted whirligig of equations and probabilities. Now hyper aware of all outside stimuli, the feel of the wall rubbing against the exposed skin across her shoulders and lower back, their harsh breathing filling the small supply closet, the wetness of his lips on her skin.

If anything the frustration she was supposed to be working out was now threefold due to the fact that she had been so goddamn close.

So goddamn close and she knew that there was no going back thanks to her hyperactive brain.

When her phone started ringing, relief flooded through her that she wouldn't have to wait out the next ten minutes until Agent Daniels finally finished and she could leave. Normally Poppy would have just taken off the moment it went south, except she wasn't sure how long she would be stuck at the New York facility for and she didn't have the patience to organise a new arrangement with someone else. There was no doubt Fury already knew and disapproved of the fraternization, but since New York cut off her usual MO of just pulling someone at a bar he would have to deal with it.

Shaking off Agent Daniels' clutching hands Poppy uncrossed her legs from around his waist and dropped onto the floor. Bending she pulled on her panties and jeans, digging her phone out of her jacket pocket and swiping the screen, ignoring the forlorn look Agent Daniels was giving her as he tucked himself back into his pants.

"Agent Patel," Poppy answered the phone, tucking it between her ear and shoulder as she buttoned up her jeans and stuffed her feet back into her boots.

" _Finally!"_ Anderson cried exasperatedly down the line. " _You need to get up here right now! He's woken up!"_

"Goddammit!" Poppy hissed into the phone, shouldering her way past Agent Daniels she had enough sense of mind to shoot him an apologetic look on her way out. "I'm on my way - try and keep him contained."

Feet pounding against the floor Poppy took off at a run towards Captain Rogers observation room, hoping Anderson and the others on the team hadn't managed to fuck up all her hard work.

Just as Poppy reached the door to the observation room it burst out into the corridor, she narrowly avoided being between it and the wall it slammed into by throwing herself aside. Looking up through her hair she watched as a disorientated Captain Rogers stepped through the hole in the wall. Bright blue eyes searched desperately around him and locked onto Poppy's dark ones. For a moment everything was still as the two of them stared at each other until Steve took off in a dead sprint down the corridor the way she had came.

"Captain Rogers!" Poppy called out after him, but she knew it was no use. In that moment she had seen it - he was terrified.

Climbing to her feet she gave chase after him dialing Anderson's number as she went, "I'm going after him," She told the doctor, "Alert the building we've got to make sure he doesn't leave."

" _Already done - it looks like Fury's been notified also."_

Stuffing her phone back in her pocket, Poppy groaned "Of course he has," putting on an extra burst of speed as she saw Captain Rogers round the corner ahead.

" _CODE 13 - I REPEAT ALL AGENTS CODE 13."_

Captain Rogers led her on a good chase through the facility, thanks to his head start he managed to stay just out of her reach though. Poppy found this incredibly frustrating as she'd never encountered someone she couldn't outrun thanks to her father meddling with her genetics. The young woman wasn't entirely sure how to react to a challenge she wasn't 95% sure she could come out the victor in.

Reaching the ground floor, Captain Rogers seemed to put on even more speed as he shot across the cavernous lobby, weaving between people with all the grace of a drunk on the walk home. Halfway across the room Poppy bellowed out, "Captain Rogers - stand down!"

Amazingly he paused, shoulders going stiff as she witnessed him physically stop himself from standing at attention. Everyone in the lobby seemed to part between them and time stopped, until one agent decided to get brave and approach Captain Rogers. Spooked, the historical super soldier once again dropped into a dead sprint, hurdling the security barriers and slipping through the glass doors and out into Midtown New York.

Vaulting over the security barriers herself while staff stared helplessly on, Poppy once again pulled out her phone as she emerged onto the busy street watching in horror as Captain Rogers dashed right into oncoming traffic. Phone forgotten she rushed after him, making a rude hand gesture as the cabbie she bolted in front of lay on his horn. After a block of of dodging traffic Poppy realised where Captain Rogers was headed and made the decision to dial Fury who was no doubt on the ground already with other agents.

" _Agent Patel, nice of you to check in."_

"There's no time to be cute sir," Poppy replied, the only indication of her physical exertion was that she was breathing slightly faster than usual. "Captain Rogers is heading towards Times Square - think you can cut him off."

" _On it. Do you want to handle this or should I?"_

"I'll do it, Sir - it's my Project after all."

As always Times Square was packed with people. It was a little concerning though that barely anyone paid attention to the tank of a man being chased by a small Indian woman. Poppy expected at least a few looks and shouts of indignation, but instead it was as though nobody wanted to be the one to notice it happening. People just flowing around them like water.

Captain Rogers finally came to a stop in the middle of Times Square, turning in a circle as he looked around in awe-tinged confusion, giving Poppy enough time to finally get within speaking distance to him. As she approached the blond man, four black SUV's pulled up around them agents pouring out in their black suits to hinder any attempt at escaping.

Out of the biggest vehicle stepped Nick Fury in all his eye-patch wearing, black leather glory, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. managing to look both approachable and terrifying. "At ease, soldier," he called out to Captain Rogers, motioning to Poppy to 'handle this'.

"Captain Rogers," Poppy kept her voice soft and her actions slow and deliberate, treating the historical soldier like one would a spooked animal. "I apologise that your awakening has been a rough one - it wasn't meant to go like this. We were hoping to ease you into everything."

"Ease me into what?" Captain Rogers demanded, his eyes hard as they stared down at her while his chest rapidly rose and fell.

"You've been asleep," Poppy decided frankness would be the best route here. Any more subterfuge and they would lose the man's trust completely, with little to no chance of rebuilding it. He had awoken in a strange place to find people monitoring him and been chased through the streets of New York, she was honestly surprised he was even giving them the courtesy of an explanation. "For almost 70 years."

Emotions flashed across the older man's face as he processed her words. Disbelief, denial, anger, and lastly sorrow. Poppy instantly knew that this was a man who didn't hide his emotions well, and the grief he was now feeling for the loss of his life as he knew it was plain for anyone who cared to look. It almost felt as though she were intruding on something private, something she wasn't supposed to see - that no one was supposed to see.

Averting her eyes, Poppy was unsure about how to proceed. While she knew the theory of grief counselling - she had added a degree in psychology to the collection - Poppy had never really needed to put it into practice. She could barely maneuver her own emotions, let alone someone else's, and this situation obviously required more tact than she was willing to admit she had. No one had ever accused her of being comforting nor empathetic.

After a long pause, she tentatively asked, "Are you okay?"

It took long enough for him to answer her that Poppy was starting to question whether he had actually heard her. Eyes searching the crowd, Captain Rogers replied as though he were trying to convince both her and himself.

"Yeah…yeah I just…" and then in a voice that sounded like his heart was breaking he added, "I had a date."


	2. A Man Out Of Time

_The Triskelion_

 _Washington D.C._

 _15:00_

 _(Excerpt from a conversation between Agent Poppy Patel and Director Nick Fury)_

 _Fury: You are not allowed to put a control chip in his head._

 _Patel: It's the only way to ensure his cooperation with S.H.I.E.L.D. - that is why I'm putting all this effort into bringing him back isn't it?_

 _Fury: We need Captain Rogers to come back exactly as he was - we can't risk anything that may jeopardize that._

 _Patel: It's a risk if we don't._

 _Fury: I'm surprised that you of all people would suggest that we have complete control over that man - given your history._

 _Patel: Understood sir, no control chip._

* * *

 **Chapter Two - A Man Out Of Time**

Fury wanted her to take Captain Rogers on holiday.

Well, not exactly, it's not like they were going to sip mai tai's on the beaches of Tahiti. They were being relocated to a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe-house in Brooklyn. Originally Fury was sending them to Maine - quiet, idyllic, in some parts still relatively 'Old-World' - but Patel had intervened and a safe-house near Captain Rogers' old neighborhood had been cleared out and set up for their one month stay. Her reasoning being that while idyllic and quiet was all very well and good, familiar was still better for putting him at ease.

One month. They were expected to essentially live together for a month. In a two-bedroom apartment where they could only leave if they were wearing photostatic veils. Poppy had already put every takeaway delivery option on speed-dial and made ensured that the apartment had cable. If she was going to have to get Captain Rogers up to date on the 21st Century, the history channels would definitely help.

No MTV though, discovering you'd been frozen 70 years was traumatic enough without having to watch _16 And Pregnant_. He'd probably ask to go back into the ice, and honestly Poppy wouldn't blame him.

As she sat next to Captain Rogers in the briefing room across from Fury, she was impressed with how calm the super soldier appeared since only 2 days ago she had chased him through the streets of New York. Sharp eyes still picked up on the tension in his shoulders, the whitening of his knuckles as he clasped his hands together on the metal table in front of them, the eyes that instantly sought out the exits to every room he entered. To someone like Poppy, who was an expert in hiding her emotions, it was obvious that he most certainly wasn't 'okay'.

It was going to be a long month.

"A car is waiting downstairs to take you to the safe-house," Fury told the pair. "After that, it'll just be the two of you. Agent Patel is one of our most competent operatives Captain Rogers - you'll be in good hands."

Large eyes going wide in indignation at the word 'competent' while Captain Rogers expressed gratitude, Poppy opened her mouth to argue that she was a damn sight _more_ than _competent_ when Fury cut her off.

"Agent Patel, I'd like you to stay behind a moment - Captain Rogers you don't mind waiting outside? It won't take long."

"Of course not," Captain Rogers replied politely as he stood, extending a hand to grasp Fury's in a firm shake. "I appreciate what you're doing sir."

"You're a hero Cap," Fury replied ruefully, "It's the least we can do for what you've done for us."

As soon as Captain Rogers had closed the door behind him, Poppy was on her feet. "Competent?" She challenged. "I'm the best goddamn operative you've got and you know it! And you're wasting resources by turning me into a glorified babysitter turned history teacher."

"You've got a job to do, Agent Patel," Fury's voice was firm and mildly exasperated. "This is your assignment and I am getting sick and tired of your tantrums. You're well on your way to getting benched from field-roles for an indeterminate amount of time."

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

"I know you don't believe me, but this isn't some form of punishment," Fury offered in a tired voice. "You are a good agent, I can't argue there, probably too good. But thanks to your upbringing you are quite frankly _terrible_ with people. You have the skills and knowledge to help Captain Rogers with his rehabilitation, you just have no interest in it because you don't think it's worth your time. Well, let me ask you this," He paused, peering at her from across the table where she stared sullenly back with her arms crossed, "What if I'd thought _you_ weren't worth my time 7 years ago?"

Every muscle in her body stiffened as his words hit a nerve. That was a dirty underhanded move, and Fury knew it. Playing on something that she was insecure about, knowing that her sense of worth was skewed, she'd almost be proud if that one question didn't tear her up inside. Standing straighter and holding her hands loosely clasped in front of her in a 'at ease' stance, she almost appeared a different woman.

Like a child who had been reprimanded by their parent.

"Fine," Poppy answered after a long pause, "No more complaints."

"Glad to hear it. Now, I expect regular reports twice a week," Fury instructed as though their little moment had never occurred. "Obviously there are things that we would prefer you didn't share just yet, but too many secrets aren't always a good thing either."

"What level clearance does he have?" Poppy asked, knowing this would be an easier way of determining what information she could share with him and what would be classified.

After a moment's thought, Fury replied, "Level 5. Whatever information he requests, give him the Level 5 version of it."

"Understood, I should probably get going before the old man starts to get suspicious," Poppy stated, motioning towards the door with her head.

"Goodluck," Fury nodded his head, adding once her hand was on the door handle, "And remember, Poppy, you're there to help him."

"Understood," Poppy repeated formally, not quite ready to forgive the harshness of his words moments before, closing the door after herself.

Captain Rogers looked up from where he had been leaning against the wall opposite the door, hands clasped loosely in front of him, quickly standing straight once he saw her exit. Sharp blue eyes didn't miss the way she seemed deflated, exhaling slowly before throwing her shoulders back and pinning him with her stare. Large kohl-lined eyes that were harder than they should have been for someone so young, the stare of a woman who had experienced more by 26 than most people did in a lifetime. And beneath that an uncertainty that disappeared so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it.

Falling into step beside her, they walked through the building in silence. Silence that Captain Rogers didn't break until they had exited the building and instead of approaching the shiny black SUV idling at the curb, Poppy had taken a hard right and continued along the sidewalk.

"I thought Director Fury said that there was a car taking us?" He hesitated between following orders or following her.

"Fury says a lot of things," Poppy replied irritatedly, the conversation with Fury having upset her enough that she forgot about possibly being seen. "It's not that far and I could do with some fresh air."

Making a split-second decision Captain Rogers strode after her, catching up in a matter of seconds thanks to his longer gait. Poppy glanced up at him and smirked sarcastically, "Good call."

They spent most of the walk in silence, Captain Rogers merely raising his eyebrows in bemusement after the third time Poppy diverted a call from the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had been waiting to drive them. She refused to explain herself to some Level 4 who was a glorified chauffeur and had no doubt run to Fury already tattling on her for not taking the car like a good little girl.

Granted, she was now regretting venturing out without a photostatic veil on - cursing her emotions for getting the better of her. Even though it was totally unwarranted, she couldn't help but project some of that blame onto Captain Rogers. It was his fault she was here after all. If he had just died in that crash like he was supposed to instead of somehow preserving himself she wouldn't need to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s version of Florence Nightingale right now.

"Director Fury mentioned that you were part of the team that, uh, helped me after I was found?" Captain Rogers broached the not quite comfortable silence between them, he was a man out of time but that didn't mean he couldn't pick up on the signals she was sending. It was quite obvious that Poppy had a problem, and that that problem was most likely him or to do with him.

"I _headed_ the team," Poppy corrected sharply. "But yes, I watched you sleep for 3 months and stopped you from dying from cardiac-arrest and ensured you awoke with all your fingers and toes." After being left with nothing but stunned silence she impatiently prompted, "You're welcome."

"Thank you?" Captain Rogers replied haltingly, still feeling as though the floor had been pulled out from beneath him yet he was still expected to stand as though it were still there. And Agent Poppy Patel certainly wasn't helping him find his balance at all. If anything it felt like every time she opened her mouth he understood less and less.

"Yes, well, Fury thought it would be a good experience for me," Poppy stated flippantly. "And seeing as I was the only person who had a similar physiology as you, not to mention enough brains to know how to keep you from dying, I didn't really have much of a choice."

Brow furrowing in confusion Captain Rogers' eyes flicked over her body almost suspiciously as he asked, "Similar physiology? I don't mean to offend you but you're not exactly…"

"What?" Poppy replied with a raised brow. "A hulking monument to masculinity? You're right. But I do happen to have one very similar addition also floating around in my bloodstream."

Now those blond brows shot upwards in surprise. Poppy knew she probably shouldn't be telling him that - it wasn't exactly Level 5 knowledge. Due to it tending to open a can of worms on just _how_ she came to have super soldier serum written into her DNA. But she figured it would come up sooner or later and quite honestly wanted the entire conversation out of the way. Before he began to question why she was trusted to protect him all by herself.

"You - you got the serum too?" Captain Rogers asked, stunned. "Are Super Soldiers commonplace now?"

Laughing, though the sound was lacking in humour, Poppy answered, "Don't worry Captain Rogers - you and I are still a very rare breed. Only difference is your experience was voluntary."

"So, can you…?" Captain Rogers trailed off, unsure of how to ask if her abilities were exactly the same as his - deciding not to touch on the topic of consent just then.

"Shoot lasers from my eyes?" Poppy's lips had twisted into a sarcastic mockery of a smile, it was still unclear on whether she were teasing him or being purposely rude. "Unfortunately no, I didn't get that upgrade. Pretty sure I could go toe-to-toe with you though."

Approaching a large brick apartment building, the third one on that block, Poppy's pace began to slow. It didn't look like anything special, but Captain Rogers supposed that was the point. Except he recognised the area. It had changed obviously, but underneath he could tell that it was his old neighbourhood. It was oddly comforting.

"There it is," Poppy announced with an exaggerated flourish. "Home sweet home."

The small two bedroom apartment was...cozy.

"You're through there," Poppy instructed with a flippant hand gesture towards the door in question as she locked the front door behind them. "I'm opposite you, the bathroom's down the hall, the kitchen's through there, and you're standing in our apparently spacious living room."

Turning around, Captain Rogers took it all in. While the obvious disdain in Poppy's voice proved that she was used to somewhat larger lodgings, Captain Rogers was impressed by the size. It was at almost twice as large as the apartment he used to share with his mother before her passing. Most of the furnishings were familiar to him, except for a few objects that were obviously the product of modern technology.

Already in the small kitchen, Poppy was looking through the cupboards hunting for all the ingredients necessary to create a cup of coffee. The fancy machine she had requested on the requisition had apparently been forgotten and all she had was a coffee-pot and some creamer in the fridge. "We have two options - either you can settle in or we can jump straight into some of the history you slept through," Poppy called out to him. "A kind of Twenty First Century For Dummies type thing."

Frowning at the word 'dummies' - he was a man out of time, not an idiot - Captain Rogers trailed through the apartment. While the technology had certainly advanced, the super-soldier was relieved to see that for the most part things were still the same. Electricity had certainly improved, not to mention mattress quality as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

Taking a moment, he listened to Poppy moving around in the kitchen, resting his shaking hands on his knees before curling them into fists. Slowly opening his fingers he was relieved to find the shaking had stopped. It was something that had been occurring intermittently since he had first woken up in that strange room. He had always had steady hands, even before the serum, and it was a disconcerting thing to experience.

It was something he had seen before, in the elderly and the men who let the horrors of what they experienced while fighting the war win the battle in their minds. Battle fatigue they called it. He had won the battle, it appeared, but at what personal cost.

Knowing that being left alone with his own thoughts wouldn't help him right now, Captain Rogers ventured back into the living room. There he found Poppy already seated on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hands, the agent looking up at him as he entered the room.

"Figured you'd be eager to see what you've missed," Her voice held a faint hint of glee at being proven correct. Tilting her head she indicated the spot on the couch next to her, "Take a seat Captain Rogers. Unfortunately your records didn't list how you like to take your coffee, sorry if you're not a sugar and creamer type of man."

Just like that she'd managed to throw him off balance once again, not expecting her to go out of her way to make him a beverage also. Especially with the feeling that she considered being assigned to him a complete and utter burden. Lowering himself onto the couch next to her, his lips twitched faintly upward as he picked up the mug off the table, "Thank you."

Shrugging as though it were no big deal, Poppy picked up the remote and spun it around in her hand a few times, "Ready to find out what the world's been up to since 1944?"

Nodding, Captain Rogers replied, "I guess so."

For the first two weeks it was an endless montage of documentaries, questions, coffee, and takeout delivery guys.

They'd made it to the 70's and Captain Rogers had progressed to being able to use the TV and make the coffee every morning as he woke up earlier than Poppy. She would then make scrambled eggs with toast and bacon, because Captain Rogers would somehow overcook the eggs and undercook the bacon and Poppy wasn't the most tactful at telling people they'd done something wrong. The look on her face alone after a mouthful of the rubbery eggs had told Captain Rogers more than enough.

They'd fallen into a routine, and in Poppy's opinion it was almost disgustingly domestic. Neither talked overly much, and that suited the both of them just fine.

Keeping a record of Captain Rogers' mental health was proving challenging, as Poppy didn't have the experience in being comforting and Captain Rogers didn't trust her enough to divulge anything personal. As a result all of her reports came across as very clinical and reiterating that Captain Rogers was doing "just fine". She didn't believe it for a second, but it wasn't like she could record assumptions - S.H.I.E.L.D. expected statements and facts.

One thing they didn't mention was how little Captain Rogers was sleeping, because then Poppy would have to explain why she was awake to notice. And that was a conversation she wasn't going to have with Fury again..

Except now it was Tuesday night and Poppy had been staring at the ceiling for 4 hours because everytime she closed them she relived yet another memory of the time spent with her father. And she was exhausted. While knowing self-medicating was frowned upon in S.H.I.E.L.D., especially while on assignment, Poppy had had less than 14 hours sleep in the last 3 days and it was getting to her.

She needed a drink.

Naturally the safe-house didn't come stocked with a bar, which meant she had to go foraging for alcohol herself. Knowing there was a 24 hour liquor store a block away, she dressed quickly bundling up in a coat and purple scarf and grabbing a photostatic veil out of her field bag. While she had been reckless on the trip to the safe-house with Captain Rogers, she wasn't about to make the same mistake again. Granted, she didn't imagine any of her father's people would think to look for her at a 24-hour liquor store in Brooklyn, but you never knew.

Poppy had just unlocked the deadbolt when she heard Captain Rogers say, "It's pretty late for a walk."

Letting out a dry laugh, Poppy turned around to see him standing in the doorway to the hall with his arms crossed, "Well, you're not wrong." Looking at him, she made the decision that if she was going to break the rules and go out, she may as well break them all the way. "Want to go on a field-trip Captain Rogers?"

"A field-trip? At 4am?"

Nodding, Poppy held the photostatic veil up between two fingers as her lips curved into a smirk, "Only catch is you've got to wear one of these - and let me do the talking."

After a brief hesitation as he thought it over, Captain Rogers nodded in return, "Agreed."

Less than 15 minutes later both of their photostatic veils were in place and projecting a face that wasn't their own, Captain Rogers was looking decidedly more modern in a hoodie and jacket, and the pair were heading down the street in search of the 24-hour liquor store. Neither said much, just strolled side by side in a silence that had grown decidedly more companionable since their first walk together. Captain Rogers was taking it all in, experiencing first-hand how much the world had changed instead of just through a television screen.

As they entered the liquor store, a red neon sign declaring it "Red Spot", his eyes blinked against the bright fluorescent lighting. That was one thing he could do without - fluorescent lighting. It was much too bright, the slight buzzing the bulbs emitted made his back teeth ache, and they cast everything in a sickly sheen. Turning Poppy's dusky brown skin a sallow grey.

Trailing her fingers along the glass bottles Poppy sauntered down the first aisle, Captain Rogers trailing behind her looking both curious and mildly uncomfortable. At the time coming with her had seemed like a good idea, a way to get out of that apartment and his own thoughts. But this tiny corner liquor store didn't seem like the right place to do it. He hadn't been sure what to expect from an early morning walk, but a liquor store certainly wasn't it. It certainly clouded the opinion he had formed about Poppy in the short time they'd been together.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had been professional, if borderline antagonistic, and her propensity for sarcasm appeared to be at times physically held back. Captain Rogers was unsure if this attitude was for him personally, or if she was like this with everyone. While it was obvious she was trying, Poppy was not the most nurturing of people and all of her inquiries towards his mental health came across as highly clinical. He often felt like he was still her experiment, not a man she was tasked with helping but a project she was expected to succeed at.

"What's your poison, Captain?" Poppy asked suddenly as she tapped her nails against a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka, head tilted quizzically as she looked up at him.

"Excuse me?" He frowned back at her, certain he had misheard her question.

Continuing along the aisle, Poppy's fingers curled around the neck of an expensive bottle of amber liquid, "I've always been a fan of scotch - the older the better. Though that's probably my father's influence," she added as an afterthought, tucking the bottle into the crook of her elbow and grabbing another one.

"I was never a big drinker," Captain Rogers answered her, which was true as he'd very rarely had the money spare for it. There had been times with Bucky...but he didn't want to start thinking about Bucky again.

Flashing him a mirthless smile as she headed towards the counter Poppy shrugged, "Neither am I."

Captain Rogers thought her words over, the dark bruising around her eyes and the fact he had caught her trying to sneak out of the apartment at 4am to buy alcohol - maybe he wasn't the only one who had things they didn't want to think about.

"You know what, Captain?" Poppy called back to him with what he would almost describe as a wolfish grin, "Grab another bottle."

After a noticeable hesitation Captain Rogers picked up the last bottle on the shelf and trailed after Poppy, wondering if he was going to regret the decision later.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hi everyone!**

 **Oh my god, thank you for the positive response chapter one received! I'm so glad you all like Poppy - I was actually pretty worried that people wouldn't, but that being said her true bitchiness hasn't really surfaced until now haha maybe you all hate her after this chapter? Who knows!**

 **I'm looking forward to hearing more of what you think, and more importantly you all ENJOYING my fic because it is for all of you! Fingers-crossed I do Cap justice haha**

 **Have fun reading!**

 **\- susiesamurai xo**


	3. An Answer For An Answer

_The Triskelion_

 _Washington D.C._

 _U.S.A._

 _11:00_

 _(An excerpt from a conversation between Agent Patel and Director Fury)_

 _Fury: Agent Patel...Poppy, we feel it may be best if you take some time to yourself after that last mission._

 _Patel: I don't understand why, sir._

 _Fury: Well, from what your mission report stated things got a little dicey there… your father's name was mentioned._

 _Patel: With all due respect, sir, we shouldn't have expected him to stop looking for me just because I joined S.H.I.E.L.D._

 _Fury: Yes but I understand that you were forced to...neutralise someone that you had known previously._

 _Patel: Ravi chose his side. It was just unfortunate for him that it happened to be my father's._

* * *

Chapter Three - An Answer For An Answer

Shucking off her coat, Poppy draped it over the back of a chair as she uncoiled the scarf from around her neck leaving Captain Rogers to close the door behind them. Gesturing towards the brown paper bag tucked under Captain Rogers' arm Poppy instructed, "You can leave that on the coffee table."

Ducking into the kitchen without checking if he was following her instructions, she emerged with a glass in each hand and was pleasantly surprised. The four bottles of scotch were lined up on the table and Captain Rogers was perched somewhat awkwardly on the edge of the couch. Approaching him, Poppy curled up onto the couch next to him with one leg folded beneath her and the other bent at the knee. Leaning forward Poppy popped the cork on the first bottle with one hand, pouring two fingers of scotch into each glass and offering one to Captain Rogers.

Eyeing the glass warily, like it were a snake contemplating whether to bite him or not, he finally took it his warm fingers brushing against her chilled ones.

"Good call, Captain," Poppy commented before clinking her glass against his, "Cheers."

Without further ceremony, she tilted her head back and downed her drink in one swallow. Cautiously peering at the amber liquid, Captain Rogers soon followed. The alcohol was smooth on his tongue and seemed to leave a trail of heat as it travelled down to his stomach. Even so, the taste was strong enough for him to clear his throat afterwards.

"I did warn you I liked the good stuff," Poppy said wryly as she poured another two fingers into each glass. "Granted this is still probably a lot smoother than the rotgut they used to serve back in your day."

"Back in my day," Captain Rogers repeated quietly as he stared at the glass in his hand. "You must be aware that the serum means we can't actually get intoxicated, aren't you? The doctors explained that it had something to do with enhanced metabolism."

Propping her chin on top of her knee, Poppy gestured at the bottles lined up on the table with the glass in her hand. "Obviously, Captain Rogers, you never tried hard enough."

"Never really had a reason to," He answered truthfully, never having been one to think the answer to his problems would lie at the bottom of a bottle.

Dark brows drew together in annoyance, as Poppy was reminded of just how _perfect_ Captain Steve Rogers was. Of course he had never drank his issues away. Such an option would have never even crossed his pious mind. Envy coiled low and cold in Poppy's gut and she tossed back the contents of her glass in an effort to chase it away, relishing the heat that blossomed in its place. He was right when he said that because of the serum they couldn't actually get intoxicated, the most Poppy had ever achieved was a light buzz and that was after a _lot_ of drinks.

She had discovered though that sometimes the act itself was enough to trick the brain into thinking it wasn't as sober as it actually was.

"Well then, Captain," The smile on her lips as sharp as a knife, "Feel free to borrow one of mine."

Despite being curious about what had brought this sudden switch in attitude towards him - borderline friendly to almost outright antagonism - Captain Rogers was intelligent enough to realise that she was drinking for a reason. No one just decided at 4am to get drunk for the sake of it, and judging from the way she was throwing back her drinks it was obvious the plan was intoxication. Even if it was physically impossible, it appeared she could make it happen through sheer force of will alone.

He hadn't been lying when he said he'd never had a reason to try and get drunk after the serum, simply because he had never been the type of person to solve their problems with alcohol. The few times he had gotten drunk, he hadn't been a fan. Never able to afford the 'good stuff' as Poppy put it, the taste had initially been enough to put him off and the hangover had solidified it.

By the time Captain Rogers had finished his second glass, Poppy was on her fifth.

Watching her stare moodily into middle-distance Captain Rogers was startled when she let out a mirthless laugh, her fingers brushing the underside of his jaw as she peeled off the photostatic veil. His face screwed up at the feel of the thin mesh mask lifting off of his skin.

"That's better," Poppy said softly. "Now we can see that pretty face of yours."

Blinking in surprise at her words, Captain Rogers silently watched as she removed her own veil, tossing both nano-masks onto the coffee table. Running a hand through her hair she fluffed up the thick waves, lifting them from where they curled heavily against her neck, before dropping them back down with a sigh and rubbing the back of her neck instead.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Captain Rogers asked tentatively, already prepared for the snapped rejection. The woman next to him had already proved that she wasn't forthcoming with personal details outside what she had to share.

The room was silent, Poppy seemingly mulling over his words carefully, that or she was ignoring him.

"An answer for an answer," Poppy addressed her glass softly.

"Pardon me?" Captain Rogers raised his brows, unsure of whether she was speaking to him or herself.

Meeting his eyes she said, "We share what's keeping us up at night, back and forward. We continue until we run out of problems to share or one of us passes out. Fair warning though," Poppy smirked, "low alcohol tolerance isn't one of my problems."

Captain Rogers found himself agreeing to her terms, allowing her to top up his glass. "Catch up, Captain," She encouraged, tapping a fingernail against the glass, smile widening as he raised the glass to his lips swallowed down the scotch with a slight grimace.

"Problem number one: that something as simple as a recorded baseball game tipped you off to it not actually being 1945," Poppy told him, annoyance laced through every word, "Causing me to have to chase you throughout the streets of New York - something I was actively trying to avoid."

Of course pious Captain Rogers actually looked contrite at her thinly veiled reprimand, something that served only to annoy her further. Just so damn perfect, even though Poppy knew from experience that nobody was perfect. No one was infallible. But envy was beginning to drown out reasoning at this point.

Tossing back the remainder on her glass, Poppy irritatedly poured another for both Captain Rogers and herself. "Alright Captain, your turn - _batter up_ ," she said pointedly.

"Well, there's the fact that everyone I ever knew is gone," Captain Rogers bit back uncharacteristically, a hint of fire in those blue eyes of his. A mixture of the scotch sitting in his stomach and a growing impatience with her deliberate antagonism.

"There he is!" Poppy's soft voice was full of triumph as she leaned forward until her knee was almost touching his chest in her effort to look into his eyes. "Now that the damn manners are out of the way, there's the real Captain Rogers." Head tilted to the side, Poppy's dark eyes seemed to soften, "They're not all gone, you know."

"What do you mean?" His gaze was intense as he processed her words.

"Peggy Carter - she's not gone. Well, not completely."

"What do you mean?" Now Captain Rogers was leaning forward also, perfect straight pointed nose an inch from her own, urgency filling his voice.

Brows jumping up in surprise Poppy teased, "Well Captain, how very _commanding_. I mean just because she's alive doesn't mean she'll remember you."

"Are you always so cryptic?" Captain Rogers demanded, "Or just when you're drinking?"

"That depends," Poppy answered flippantly as she leaned back. "Were you unable to connect the dots back in the 40's, or is this a side-effect of your defrosting?" Noticing his clenched jaw Poppy relented, "Peggy Carter, one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D., is 91 years old and unfortunately suffering from mid-stage dementia. Good news is, she'll most likely remember you. Bad news is she'll think you're still back in 1944 since you look exactly the same - she however will not."

"Peggy's still alive?" Captain Rogers breathed, looking for all the world like a drowning man who had taken his first breath of air.

"If you can call it that," Poppy shrugged, a sympathetic look crossing her face, "A mind is a terrible thing to lose."

Poppy's sympathy was sincere, though in reality it was closer to pity. She had seen the file on Peggy Carter, seen the amazing things the woman had accomplished throughout her life, and the thought of that brilliant mind deteriorating prickled at the woman's often hidden compassion. It was mind-boggling that science had progressed to the point where they could essentially bring the dead back to life, but they were unable to cure atrophy of the brain.

They sat in silence while Captain Rogers processed what he'd been told. Peggy was alive. She was alive! Maybe he wasn't as alone in this new time as he'd thought he was. Except… while it had been only a few weeks for him, it had been a lifetime for her. There was every possibility she wasn't even the same woman he had known. Would she even want to seen him? Would she even remember him?

He didn't know what possibility hurt more - that she had lived her life without him, or that she may not remember their time together at all.

"I can get you her file," Poppy offered into the silence, the kaleidoscope of emotions flitting across his face tugging at that often hidden compassion of hers. "If you'd like."

Shocked by the sincerity in her voice, Captain Rogers blinked at her profile, "I...I would appreciate that very much."

"Consider it done," Poppy replied simply, continuing to stare at her glass rather than the grateful expression on his face. Those blue eyes would be the death of her. How was it that a man who had to have seen some horrific things during his time with the Howling Commandos had managed to keep that gleam of innocence? That spark of hope that had been snuffed out of her at the age of 7 by her own father.

It was a phenomenon that both intrigued and infuriated her.

"So," Captain Rogers broached the silence, rather bravely with the question that followed, "Why didn't you want to be seen in New York?"

"Where did you get that idea?" Poppy asked sharply, not quite turning her head to face him but instead glancing out of the corner of her eye.

"Well," Captain Rogers listed, "There was how annoyed you were about having to chase me through the streets. Then the fact that tonight you made us both wear those nano-mask-things to leave the building but that first day you didn't bother. And I think you didn't bother because you were angry and whatever happened between you and Fury that you completely forgot. Also, even though this is a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse you still avoid all of the windows." The smug look he gave her was reminiscent of a child thinking they'd proven a point to an adult, "So, what are you avoiding?"

"My father gave me the super soldier serum," Poppy stated matter-of-factly. At Captain Rogers' stunned expression she smiled widely and nodded, "Oh yes Captain, not only that but there were extensive genetic modifications he made also - none my choice, it wasn't like I could stop him. I was to be his crowning achievement. Proof that he could recreate the uncreatable. He wasn't the first to try of course, and it didn't work out so well for the last person to attempt it either."

"You make it sound like he designed you to be perfect," Captain Rogers stated without thinking.

"Perhaps," Poppy shrugged. "But I'm not. I'm still human and I make mistakes like everyone else. Only difference is when I do, the consequences are severe… people expect a lot from someone like me. And my father… well he expected too much."

Those words hung in the air, Captain Rogers both curious and fearful of the story behind them. Thankfully she made the choice for him when she began to speak again.

"That was until 6 years ago when I finally had enough and used his connections to contact S.H.I.E.L.D. - offered my abilities in return for amnesty. Director Fury saw my worth and brought me into the organisation. 6 months in the Academy and I graduated with the highest marks since Natasha Romanoff, a year later I was working with her." Pausing, Poppy finally made eye-contact with Captain Rogers, "Over the last 6 years there have been 3 separate attempts by my fathers men to recapture me, the last one ending with me terminating a man I had considered a friend. New York was my father's domain, so yes I am uncomfortable with being back here. But I thought the familiar surroundings might have been a comfort for you."

Soft light was beginning to filter its way through the curtains, filling the room with a warm glow that that made Poppy look almost vulnerable. The pair of them had been talking until sunrise it appeared, and Poppy was made all the more aware of how exhausted she truly was. Captain Rogers was mulling her words over, unsure of how to respond to a confession such as that. Being used as a test subject by your own father, being hunted down as though you were a possession and not a person, the man could barely even fathom such a thing.

Knocking back the rest of her drink, a half-empty bottle of scotch remaining on the coffee table, Poppy rose fluidly to her feet ignoring the pins-and-needles that had set into her right leg. "Captain Rogers, I'm sure you can occupy yourself for the rest of today?" Poppy stated with a wry smile. "I have some reports I need to write up."

"Sure," Captain Rogers frowned at her as she took their glasses and the empty bottles to the kitchen, the sounds of glass being dropped into the bin reaching his ears. When she moved back through the room towards the bedrooms he called out to her, "Wait!"

Looking back over her shoulder expectantly, Poppy had one hand curled around the door-frame, "Yes?"

"You don't have to keep calling me Captain Rogers," He admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Steve is fine."

"Thanks for the talk," Poppy smiled at him as she continued on her way, possibly the first sincere smile he had seen on her face since meeting her, "Captain Rogers."

Closing the door behind her, Poppy dropped down onto the edge of her bed with a groan. Resting her elbows against her knees she fisted her hands in her hair and squeezed her eyes shut. That had been a mistake. Everything she had told Captain Rogers had been a mistake. If Fury found out she had taken a late night excursion to get alcohol, and then sat up with Captain Rogers drinking said alcohol, she didn't even want to imagine the debriefing involved.

How could she had been so stupid?

Ever since Captain Rogers had entered the scene she had been more and more impulsive, not thinking things through. For some improbable reason it was as though he negated any control she had, making her do things she would normally be able to suppress. Poppy had always been blunt and prone to sarcasm, but she'd never gone out of her way to antagonise a person until she met Captain Steve Rogers.

And she couldn't understand why!

Falling back against the bedspread she covered her face with a pillow to muffle her shout of frustration. Why had she told him about her father? Why had she allowed him to wind her up enough that she told him that for the sole reason of shocking him - to see the realisation in his eyes that not everyone was as perfect as he was. He made her feel...less. Suddenly she wasn't as special because here was someone else with all the same attributes as her - maybe not as intelligent but physically they were on par. This was a man who had been dubbed as "The World's First Superhero", the man who gave a hefty contribution towards ending World War Two.

And he did it so goddamn effortlessly.

The sound of her phone ringing interrupted her thoughts and she blindly searched the covers until her hand curled around it. Glancing at the name across the screen she swiped her thumb across it before holding it up to her ear, her other arm flung across her face.

" _Hey Popsicle!"_

Clint Barton was as incessantly chipper as ever, despite it being 7am though granted he had probably gotten more sleep than she had lately.

Smiling at the nickname, even though she had claimed numerous times that she hated it, Poppy grumbled, "Hey Hawk, what's new?"

" _Eh, nothing much, the Tesseract's still blue and glowy and not exactly wanting to cooperate with the good doctor,"_ Clint replied flippantly, she could imagine his shoulders shrugging and the wry half-smile twisting his lips. " _How's Iceman going? Assimilating to modern life - have you introduced him to Twinkies yet?"_

"About 3 hours ago I introduced him to scotch?" There was a rueful tone to Poppy's voice, she almost felt like a kid getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Or what she imagined that to feel like, as there hadn't been any cookies around during her childhood. Plenty of jars though, but she certainly wouldn't have put any part of her body in those.

" _Go big or go home, huh kid?"_ Warm chuckles came through the earpiece, " _But I thought you guys couldn't actually - uh - get buzzed?"_

"One day I'll succeed in getting white girl wasted," Poppy declared, "But you're right, this was not one of those times."

" _Wanna tell Uncle Clint what brought this particular challenge into being?"_ Came the inevitable question. " _And why you decided to bring the world's youngest geriatric along with you?"_

"Just the usual," Poppy replied flippantly, "Couldn't sleep."

" _New York's wiggin' you out huh?"_

Somehow the older agent always seemed to get to the heart of what was bothering her without even needing to ask what was going on. Within a year of working together he had learned all her tells and cues and could see through whatever front she decided to put forward on that particular day. The uncanny ability to be able to read a person almost instantly was part of what made Clint Barton such an asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. - a skill he had been steadily working on with Poppy since they had initially bonded.

"That could be a fair assumption," Poppy relented, before deciding to shift the topic off of her mental state and onto safer ground. "There's also the fact that I'm stuck here tutoring Captain Perfect instead of being properly utilised."

" _You know I hate it when you refer to yourself more as a tool than a person, right?"_ Clint questioned rhetorically. " _Who better to teach Iceman the ropes than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top squint - especially when you're the most qualified for bodyguard detail too. Remember Popsicle, I've seen you kill a man with just your thighs - a sight I still wish I could unsee but there you go."_

"It's not like I'm teaching the guy theoretical physics," Poppy scoffed, realising that the 'safer ground' mightn't be all that much safer. "All he needed was to be shown how to use a television and his learning could have been entirely self-sufficient. I've been led to believe that figuring things out for yourself builds character."

" _Yeah...but it doesn't always build the right kind of character,"_ Clint gently disagreed with her. " _Just because someone can figure it out on their own, doesn't mean they should have to."_

"You sound like a fortune cookie," Poppy deadpanned, not liking the slight sting of shame that prickled around her edges at what sounded suspiciously like disappointment coming through in Clint's voice.

" _Do you like him?"_

Blanching at his bluntness, Poppy quipped, "What's not to like? He's polite, thoughtful, doesn't stare at my ass - probably used to go to church every Sunday. Tends to overcook the eggs, but he can make a half-decent cup of coffee."

" _And there it is!"_ Clint crowed triumphant. " _Feeling a little too domestic there, Popsicle? Maybe you should ask the guy to spar? Fighting's a good way to get to know a person. Also, just to consider, this is the guy who fought in World War Two with a commando squad - he's probably not as squeaky clean as you think. Those guys got in a lot of wickets, all of them hella sticky."_

"Maybe," Poppy conceded, too tired to bother arguing with Clint knowing the older man could talk circles around her if he had half the mind.

" _Just saying you should look at this from a different angle,"_ He offered, " _Anyway I gotta go, who knows the Tesseract might actually cooperate today and if that happens they'll need me to stand there looking impressed and slightly awestruck."_

"Later Hawk."

" _Get some sleep, Popsicle."_

* * *

 **AN:**

 **I'm so happy that people are still liking this fic! Honestly, knowing that you all appreciate Poppy as much as I do makes my heart fit to burst haha  
Saying that, please don't hate her too much this chapter - she has a lot of issues and this is the first step to dealing with them! I hope you all liked the ending with Clint and Poppy. To me Fury is most definitely her father figure, and the amount of value Poppy's placed on his opinion probably isn't healthy but the more you learn about her past the more you'll understand why. But Clint and Natasha are the fun aunt and uncle who Poppy would trust with any secret, and she craves their validation as much as she does Fury's.**

 **We've caught a bit more of a glimpse into her past too. I understand that Poppy was very antagonistic towards Steve this chapter, but it was necessary! I promise.**

 **Please let you know if you're liking what I'm throwing down! I crave your opinions.**

 **Happy reading,**

 **\- susiesamurai xoxo**


	4. Listen To Taylor Swift In The Bathtub

_The Triskelion_

 _Washington D.C._

 _U.S.A._

 _11:00_

 _(An excerpt from a conversation between Agent Patel and Director Fury)_

 _Fury: Congratulations Agent Patel, no one's graduated with marks that high since Agent Romanoff._

 _Patel: Thank you, Sir._

 _Fury: And because of that, it's been decided that we'll be placing you on a team with both Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton._

 _Patel: Excuse me, Sir, but I'm sure you're aware that I work best alone._

 _Fury: Exactly. The one thing that stopped you from exceeding Agent Romanoff was your...difficulty with working with other agents. That's why we're setting you up with a team._

 _Patel: With all due respect, I didn't come to S.H.I.E.L.D. to hold hands and sing kumbaya. I came to make a difference. Sir._

 _Fury: And with all due respect, I am your commanding officer and if I say you're to sing kumbaya you respond with "how many yaya's?" - am I clear?_

 _Patel: ...yes, Sir._

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 **Listen To Taylor Swift In The Bathtub**

Steve holed up in his bedroom after Agent Lewis delivered Peggy Carter's file.

Random encounters in the hall when Steve ventured forth in need of food or the bathroom became the only contact between the pair. Every time he would avoid Poppy's gaze, blue eyes cast towards the floor. As though she couldn't read him through body-language alone. His depression near palpable in the almost-too-close for comfort apartment.

The first day Poppy attempted understanding. After all, it was a lot to take in - experiencing a life that should have been yours second-hand. Especially through the clinical way S.H.I.E.L.D. reports were written up. While it wasn't the life ahead of her - one she neither expected nor wanted - Poppy could comprehend on an emotional level how it could be difficult to read about how the love of your life moved on with a husband and two children.

Heartbreak was apparently one of the most relatable experiences in the world, the sheer amount of songs written about it supporting that statement. Clint had advised, however, that telling Captain Rogers to listen to Taylor Swift in the bathtub and move on wasn't a good idea. Poppy had been joking when she'd text him that - mostly.

The second day Poppy's capacity for understanding was beginning to wane. Naturally, people grieve differently, she _knew_ this. She herself was a firm practitioner of compartmentalizing and resorting to coping mechanisms such as the other night when ignoring an issue no longer worked. But knowing something and experiencing something were two entirely different things. To stop herself from interfering with Captain Rogers' process, Poppy had taken the chance to catch up on paperwork she had let slip while playing babysitter and personal tutor.

The third day Poppy had finished the paperwork and was brimming with excess energy. The tiny part of her brain that's emotional and illogical and easily frustrated was beginning to increase from its usual 17% Poppy usually kept it capped at. Clouding her judgment and normally stellar ability to detach herself from the situation - something that had become increasingly difficult since Captain Rogers had been inserted into her life.

When Poppy was wound this tight there were only a few things that could get her to relax. The first, sex, was obviously off the table. She wasn't allowed to leave the building except for emergencies - 4AM trips to the liquor store notwithstanding - and she sure as hell wasn't bringing in a booty-call with Captain America in the next room. The second was a good old-fashioned fist-fight, again not really easily arranged. Her best sparring partner was in Russia and the second guarding the very object Captain Rogers froze himself over.

Only one option was left.

Ducking through the living-room window Poppy climbed up the fire-escape, ignoring the way the aged black-iron creaked beneath her weight. There was a narrow-minded focus to her that helped ignore the cold droplets of water that landed on her skin and made her hair stick to the sides of her face and neck. That it was raining made very little difference in Poppy's mind, the result would the same regardless seeing as she couldn't get sick, she'd just be a little bit wetter.

It only took her moments to reach the roof of the building, swinging a leg over the raised ledge and dropping down onto the slick concrete. Her bare toes curled inward at the sensation. A shiver ran down her spine as the rain came down harder and the sky lit up and cast everything in contrast before a loud crack split the air.

Moving out to the center of the understandably deserted roof, Poppy began to dance.

Simple movements first, her body falling into a pattern that was as second-nature as breathing at this point. Dance was something she had turned to while still with her father. A solace in which she could still her mind and concentrate on nothing but the movements of her body. The practiced control she had over her limbs as she pushed herself harder and harder until there wasn't an inch of flesh that didn't bow to her will.

Unlike combat, this gave her peace. Sure, there were similarities between this and the martial arts she was expected to master. But while the combat training stirred nothing but violence and anger in her gut, dance gave Poppy a semblance of peace. A chance to drown out the noise in her head, the guilt, the expectations.

To just be.

Her father hadn't allowed her a lot of things to herself growing up. Too many expectations and responsibilities. Thankfully dancing had been the one reprieve Poppy had been granted. Although her father had no doubt had ulterior motives about encouraging the interest, it was still something that had been hers. Was still _hers_.

Lifting her left leg high, bent slightly at the knee, toe pointed she spun on the right. Arms outstretched, reaching, always reaching. Only to come to a stop when she saw blue eyes gazing curiously at her from above the stone ledge.

It seemed Captain Rogers had ventured out from his bedroom.

He had been watching her for only a moment, deliberating over making himself known or retreating back down the fire-escape. The sweeping movements of her feet against the slick concrete had thrown up showers of water. His eyes taking in how her dark leggings and tank-top molded to her as she twisted into impossible movements. Dark hair clinging to dusky skin when it wasn't fanning out around her shoulders.

Captain Rogers had watched as she danced. In the rain. Barefoot.

Agent Patel had never appeared more human, more tangible than she had then. There was something honest about it all. Not the sharp honesty of the night they had drunk together and shared secrets, where it had been anger and knives hidden beneath self-deprecation. This was a glimpse at the woman behind the persona Poppy had carefully cultivated for herself. A kind of clean, poignant truth that was both breathtaking and painful all at once.

While her movements slowed, they didn't cease. All the encouragement Captain Rogers needed to make the decision to stay as he easily raised himself onto the ledge.

Poppy thought he looked ridiculous. Leaning against the concrete in the middle of a thunderstorm, watching her with blue eyes that were softer than they had any right to be.

" _Why_ are you doing this?" He finally decided to ask, his curiosity too much to ignore and the silence far too thick to be comfortable.

"I like to dance," Poppy replied simply, spinning lazily in place.

"Why are you dancing _here_?"

"Because it's raining and I knew I would be alone. Though, apparently, not as alone as I thought."

He saw a twitch in her cheek that gave her away; she was purposefully being flippant. He wouldn't rise to the bait and snap back, however. Maybe he had that night earlier in the week, but he saw her sharp tongue for what it was now. A wall to keep people out.

"And the rain? Why the rain?"

She twirled until her left leg was curled up behind her, her ankle almost reaching her crown, and her arms still reaching; before letting her muscles go lax and dropping both feet down onto the wet ground.

"It happened to be raining," Poppy stated. "There's no great significance to it. No tragic backstory of dancing through rainstorms. Just pure coincidence."

She stretched out her legs, flexed her toes. He didn't expect her to say more, quite frankly surprised she had shared this much with him. Even with all his experience during the war, he had trouble recalling if he had ever met a person who held their cards as close to the chest as Agent Patel did.

"I'm surprised to see you here, however," his head jerked up at her words, catching the small smirk twisting one corner of her full mouth, "Finally ventured out from your self-imposed exile?"

Blinking away the raindrops that had gathered on the ends of her eyelashes Poppy pushed her wet hair back from her face as she fixed her gaze on Captain Rogers. Tracking the way he shifted slightly, arms pulling across his chest, uncomfortable from either the question or the rain.

"It," he started before pressing his lips together and working his jaw, "It was a lot to process."

Poppy stayed silent, dark eyes steady on his bright blue. A blue so clear it reminded her of the summer sky she would stare at through the window of her father's lab as a child. A blue like freedom.

She shook her head almost violently, as though she could physically knock such a ridiculous notion from her mind. Blue like freedom - what a joke.

"I, uh, well I half expected her to be here waiting for me - you know?" Captain Rogers admitted, eyes shifting away from hers. "And to then read about everything she achieved while I was frozen…"

Stretching up onto her toes she flung her arms out then down, arching her back and pushing out her chest; face turned up to the sky as her body curved smooth as a bow. With closed eyes, it was almost as though she were addressing the heavens when she spoke.

"You saved the world, Captain Rogers, be proud of that - she was."

He stared at her, seemingly stunned by her words, or the fact that she had been the one to say them. It was uncertain. She was thrown into stark relief as lightning split the sky, outlining the lean lines of her body as she held her pose with indescribable control. She dropped to the ground in time to the booming crash of thunder echoing in his ears.

Looking up at him from where she knelt against the concrete an almost gentle look crossed her face. It disappeared so quickly if it weren't for what followed he would have sworn he'd imagined it. Taking a deep breath it seemed as though Poppy had come to some kind of decision as she said, "I'll speak to Fury, once we're allowed to leave, about visiting her."

Holding up a hand to stop his inevitable onslaught of questions or, worse, gratitude Poppy continued, "I can't promise it will go how you want, but I can at least offer a semblance of closure. It's the least I can do for the World's First Superhero."

With those words, she crossed the roof to where he was leaning against the ledge. Pausing when they were shoulder to shoulder she held his gaze for a long moment, eyes sliding away at the depth of emotion as she swallowed down a wave of discomfort.

Silently she descended the fire escape leaving Captain Rogers alone in the rain with his thoughts.

Later that night, as he stared at the ceiling while sleep once again eluded him those words echoed through his head once again, chased by the sharp crack of the sky breaking.

" _Be proud of that - she was_."

* * *

For the first time in three days, Poppy awoke to the scent of freshly brewed coffee.

Although she was quick to quash the feeling, she couldn't help the warmth that spread throughout her body as she entered the kitchen. Standing at the counter in front of the window was Captain Rogers, his grey T-Shirt pulled taut across broad shoulders and the morning sunlight edging his blond hair in gold.

At the sound of Poppy's entry he turned around, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a soft smile, and she quickly schooled her features into a neutral mask when she felt her lip curve upwards in return.

As his face fell the slightest bit at her sudden change in attitude Poppy questioned the cold blade of guilt that slivered between her ribs like a knife. A knife wielded by a blue-eyed, six-foot, blond puppy. In almost three weeks he had achieved something that had taken everyone else months to reach.

Captain Rogers had officially gotten beneath her skin and somewhere along the way she had grown to care for him.

Goddammit.

"Good morning," Poppy moved further into the room accepting the mug of coffee held out to her, "Captain Rogers."

"Steve," He corrected with his eyebrows pulled together in consternation.

"I know your name," Poppy took a long pull of her coffee as she leaned against the counter next to him, "Captain Rogers."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he opened his mouth to correct her again before it turned into a small grin as he shook his head ruefully.

"As you say, Agent Patel."

Leaning forward Poppy allowed her thick fall of hair to hide her smile at his words before she tucked it back behind her ear and placed her coffee on the counter. Moving around Captain Rogers she stretched up on her toes and retrieved the pan from the cupboards above the counter, dropping it on the stove-top. She was distinctly aware of him only inches away, swearing that the flush to her skin had nothing to do with their proximity.

Turning on the gas it occurred to her that Clint may have been right.

Captain Rogers passed her the egg carton out of the fridge, settling against the opposite counter as she began cracking them into a bowl. Blue eyes watching her over the lip of a coffee mug that proclaimed '#1 DAD'.

Things had gotten domestic.

And she was beginning to like it.

* * *

A/N:

Hi guys! I'm so sorry this took so long to update! Short chapter, but hopefully worth it.

Happy reading,

\- susiesamurai xo


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